


The Feeling Is Mutual

by PoorQueequeg



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Curse this pair, Drama, Dubcon vibes but definitely not IMO just fruity context, F/M, I did the best I could, Romance, Sam is captured by Baal cliche type stuff, Smut, Woe unto all Sam/Baal shippers for the love of the impossible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorQueequeg/pseuds/PoorQueequeg
Summary: Let's not dwell on questions that have no satisfactory answers. They are, after all, mortal enemies.





	The Feeling Is Mutual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [campylobacter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/campylobacter/gifts).



> Nothing here but intenth thekthual chemithtry.
> 
> For Campy, even though we've not spoken for ages, you were always a delightfully degenerate Sam/Baal fan.

 

It was something of a surprise for Sam when she woke in a warm, soft bed instead of the infirmary, or even the hard ground of the battlefield where she had last been. Something of a surprise but not a total one. Such was her life, knowing every time she stepped through the Stargate she might not come back.

 

Sam gulped back the anxiety rising from the pit of her stomach and steeled herself with a breath. Blinking, she cast her eye around the room to see the gold and red hues of a Goa'uld mothership, pale light dancing over the walls glyph engraved walls. The low hum of the engines vibrated gently in the background, and to one side a viewport offered a dazzling view of hyperspace. She was alive at least and glad for that, her last memory before blacking out taking a staff blast full in the chest. Sitting up right in one sudden movement, her hands moved instinctively to her chest. She should probably be dead but the instead pain was gone, along with her clothes, the skin across her torso unmarked as she parted as the robe she found herself wearing. Her head felt strange and it didn't take a genius to know she'd been in a sarcophagus. Sam steadied herself with her palms against the bed, taking a few breaths as she tried to process the situation. She had a suspicion who to thank for her new lease of life, one that was confirmed as the gruff rasp of voices drifted through the door from the room beyond.

 

Silently, cautiously, she rose from the bed, the floor warm beneath her bare feet. She lingered a moment, staring into the rush of colors outside, before tightening the robe across her body and cinching the belt snug at the waist. She should have been more afraid, she _was_ afraid but it was muted somehow by the eerie calm that came from being in the sarcophagus.

 

The voices from the other room fell silent, and at the hushing of closing doors Sam crept to the corner to peer into the room next door. A lone figure stood across the floor, garbed in snug robes of black and gold. She didn't need to see his face to know who it was.

 

Baal turned his head to one side, and Sam saw a flicker of awareness twist his profile. She didn't move, gripping the door frame for support as she peered at him with one eye. Was this her rescuer or her captor, she wasn't quite sure, but when turned to face her, she realized she wasn't quite as afraid of him as perhaps she should have been. Sam wasn't sure how she felt about that. She took a good look at him for a moment, cutting such a shape as he did with his regal attire and his imperious bearing. Sam knew all to well what he was, what he did and had done. He was a monster, of that she had no doubt at all but she knew too the risk to them both if she should be discovered by the lesser Goa'uld in service to him. Of what they might make him do.

 

“She awakes,” Baal stated, his tone not callous nor warm. Cautious, Sam mused, as well he should be, harboring as he was a mortal enemy in his private chambers.

 

“Why have you brought me here?” she croaked after a tense moment, moving infinitesimally from behind the door frame so that she could see him better. Baal's brow twitched and he stepped casually to one side, setting down a tablet onto a table.

 

“You're my guest,” he told her, a hint of mischief in his tone, his eyebrow arching up in a parody of her own expression.

 

“Or your prisoner,” she retorted and he smiled.

 

“You should be thanking me, Samantha,” Baal chided softly, his tone vaguely superior as it was wont to be.

 

“You put me in a sarcophagus,” she replied disapprovingly, stepping through the door finally, her hands fisting by her sides. Baal seemed unimpressed.

 

“Would you rather I had left you to die?” Sam could not answer that. She gulped and cast her eye towards another, grander viewport and let the bright white and blue swirl of space distract her for a moment.

 

“So why didn't you?” she asked eventually, gripping the sides of her robe and glancing at him through the corner of her eye. Baal smirked and sauntered slowly around the table, dragging his fingers across the surface and a thoughtful expression taking up residence on his face. He pursed his lips and with unhurried movements, poured water from a decanter into a goblet.

 

“Let's not dwell on questions, " he replied eventually, lifting the cup and moving closer. "That have no satisfactory answers.” Sam was tense but she didn't flinch, breathing steadily to quell her anxiety as he came to a stop beside her.

 

"Coward," she muttered, looking him right in the eye. Baal stared at her blankly for a moment and she wondered if she hadn't gone too far, but then that smug smile returned.

 

"Perhaps," he agreed, his arm extended between them and the cup in his hand.

 

When Sam finally took it from him, neither of them made any acknowledgement of how their fingers brushed. Naquadah hummed warningly in her veins but she was thirsty and she couldn't see why he would bother to poison her now after going to the trouble of retrieving and reviving her. She was aware of his eyes on her as she drank, and was grateful for something to hold on to, fingers clutching the gem encrusted cup tightly as she swallowed.

 

“What do you plan to do with me?” she asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence. Baal did not reply, looking her right in the eye for a second before his gaze wandered slowly over her body. Sam knew that gaze and her heart began to beat a little faster in her chest. Memories she would rather not remember drifted across her mind, his voice in her head, his hands on her body. She heard his voice, like an echo of a time she would rather forget. _We cannot kill you. We cannot let you live._ And yet here I am, she thought to herself. Sam stared at him as he sauntered toward the viewport, hands clasped behind his back as he turned away from her. She knew as well as he, the impossibility of the situation they found themselves in. She had her suspicions as to his motives, but this was not a problem that had any satisfactory outcomes. They were, after all, mortal enemies.

 

“I haven't quite decided yet,” he replied eventually but this just served to irritate her more.

 

“And I suppose I should be grateful to you for saving my life, ” she quipped. Baal quirked a brow and met her eye with a typically smug expression on his face.

 

“I suppose” was all he offered by way of reply.

 

Sam considered this, chewing her lip for a second before stepping toward the table to set the cup down. Smug bastard, she mused, looking not at him but the plates of fruit that were set out on the table before her. Baal turned his head to observe out of the corner of his eye and she found she had no idea what to say. Sam prodded something that looked like an orange with the tip of her finger.

 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked eventually, her voice flat, defeated almost.

 

“Is there somewhere that you wish to go?” he replied and she sighed a little. She should have expected this. Impossible questions with impossible answers.

 

“Do I have a choice?” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. Baal was silent, considering her words. The universe was a more beautiful place with her in it, wasn't that what he had told her then? “If you think you're going to keep me here, you can think again,” she told him eventually. Baal snorted derisively.

 

“Already plotting your escape, Samantha? ” he asked, his tone mocking. “Tell me, how will you explain yourself when you return?” Sam clenched her jaw in irritation. “We are curious,” he prodded ascerbically. “How you explained yourself before?” Sam snapped her head around and glared at him.

 

“I told them everything I know about you,” she growled. “I told them the truth.”

 

“Everything Samantha?” he asked smugly. Sam ground her teeth, rage coursing through her as she recalled the stilted half-truths she was forced to tell, shame at the secrets she dared not share. Bastard.

 

“Do you have any idea the trouble you've caused me?” she uttered coldly. Baal was unimpressed.

 

“I will not apologize, Samantha,” he sneered. “And do not try to pretend you have not used everything you have learned against us.” Sam let out a bark of laughter.

 

“As though you haven't done exactly the same thing,” she scoffed.

 

Baal's expression darkened and his eyes flashed. Sam straightened her spine and lifted her chin, trying to project a strength she didn't really feel. In truth the stark reminder of his symbiote made her quail inside, conflict churning in her gut. She wished she didn't know him like she did, wished she had never laid eyes on him.

 

“Oh believe me, Samantha, I have,” he told her darkly. “I know exactly where you've been and what you've been doing.” Sam gulped hard around the lump in her throat, unwilling to contemplate the veracity of his statement and everything it might mean.

 

Sam gripped the edge of the table as Baal stepped closer, close enough that their noses almost touched. She gasped, trying her best not tremble as even as his hand slid around her waist and the other clasped her chin in a grip firm enough to betray his anger. Stubborn as ever, she met his eye with a steely gaze.

 

“We should have killed you Samantha Carter,” he growled, but she knew the menace in his voice was more a symptom of his own impotence to do so than any real intention to harm her. “Perhaps we still could.”

 

“What was it you said to me before?” she choked out, one hand clutching tightly at the fabric of his robe as she gripped the edge of the table with the other. Baal's nostrils flared and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

 

“Oh we remember, Samantha” he growled, his expression fierce in a way that should have terrified her. _Should have_. He pulled her body flush against his own and something hot, something shameful spasmed deep inside of her, spreading out slow and thick through her body. She felt suddenly like her legs were made of lead, like she couldn't run even if she had wanted to. She hated him for what he had done to her, hated herself for wanting him to do it again. Her breath grew short and her heart thudded hard in her chest as his brown eyes bore into her with a burning gaze. His hand slid down her back to squeeze the round swell of her backside firmly, pressing his crotch against her own to, punctuate his words as he spoke. “Every moment of it.”

 

“I hate everything that you are,” she snapped, squirming in his arms and bringing her fist down hard against his chest. Baal's eyes narrowed.

 

“Remember,” he said after a minute, his voice low. “That you are my prisoner here, Samantha.”

 

“So much for being your guest,” she stammered in disgust, trembling as his arms tightened around her. “I wish I'd never laid eyes on you.” A smile bloomed across his face.

 

“The feeling is mutual,” Baal drawled, his eyes drifting down to settle on her lips. “If it helps you Samantha,” he told her, his voice waivering. “If that helps you at all.” And then he kissed her.

 

Sam squealed in indignation, squirming in his arms. She wouldn't kiss him, she wouldn't. Her voice in her head repeated it like a mantra but to what end she couldn't say, because only a moment passed and then she _was_ kissing him. Baal's breath was loud in her ears, his arms wrapped around her tightly and his palm stretched over the back of her head. She let out a whimper, his lips dragging across her cheek as she twisted her face away.

 

“I hate you,” she rasped even as his mouth closed over hers once more, although she wasn't sure she didn't hate herself more just then.

 

“Yes, my darling,” the symbiote soothed, his lips against her ear. “Hate me.” Sam hiccoughed, eyes closed as he nuzzles her cheek.

 

“I....I....” Sam stammered, her voice catching in her throat even as she found she didn't know what she wanted to say. “I hate you,” she told him again and again, even as she began to return his kisses.

 

“Of course you do,” Baal assured her, his arms squeezing tight around her and her feet suddenly leaving the floor.

 

“Bastard,” Sam mumbled against his mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he turned towards the bedroom.

 

“Beautiful Samantha,” he crooned, laying her back across the sheets and pressing close against her. “Let me make you hate me again.”

 

Sam opened her mouth to speak but no words would come out, memories flashing behind her eyes of the symbiote in her head and the host beneath her and the things they had done that she wished she could forget. Baal peered down at her, his expression grave but less fierce than before.

 

“You have made a slave of me, Tauri,” he intoned gravely, casting his eyes over her face and down to the skin exposed as her robe fell open. “What am I to do with you?”

 

Sam blinked, taking a slow deep breath as his words sank in.

 

“You'll do whatever you want,” she stuttered, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Like you always do.” Baal pondered this for a moment before he replied.

 

“Yes,” he said wistfully and then he kissed her again.

 

She couldn't have said how long they kissed, as if she was ever going to speak of word of what was transpiring between them. The weight of him pressed down between her legs, grinding against her in a form of torture far sweeter than anyone would have suspected a creature like Baal to be capable of.

 

I am prisoner, there's nothing I can do – maybe if she told herself that enough she might have started to believe it. The fact remained that her mortal enemy had saved her life for no other reason than apparently he wanted to.

 

Arousal coiled in her belly all the same, his hands roaming and his skin warm beneath her palm. Sam recalled his voice in her head, _you think too much,_ that's what he'd told her the last time they had done this. She was angry with him then, she was angry with him still but just the same she found herself in that moment intoning those same words.

 

“Don't think too much,” she uttered breathlessly, as his skin was revealed to her. “Don't think.”

 

“No, beloved,” Baal agreed as he kissed his way down her body. “Just feel.”

 

One large hand cupped her breast as his lips closed around the other. Sam let out a helpless, sighing breath, surrendering to pleasure as his tongue swirled wetly over her skin, first one and then the other. The cool air was a shock to her sensitive nipples, wet from his mouth as his lips moved down across her stomach to move oh so close to the thatch of hair between her legs.

 

A low, rumbling moan of pleasure spilled out of his throat as he stroked down her thigh, sitting back on his haunches as he rested her foot over his shoulder. Sam peeked up through her lashes, her head spinning as she took in the sight of him. Eyes closed, he kissed her ankle, hand stroking down her calf as the other caressed her other thigh. His body was a sight to behold, she could not deny, uncertain as she was if that thought truly belonged to her. She watched as he took his time, kissing down her leg, and recalling the hot swell of pride and desire she had felt as the symbiote had looked at his own body through her eyes.

 

Thinking of that was no help to her now, memories of pleasure making her docile and weak. Like a ragdoll, she found herself turned over onto her front as strong hands stroked down her back. Sam moaned, closing her eyes as Baal massaged her shoulder and down her spine, taking his time in moving down towards the round swell of her backside. His palms squeezed and she heard him groan appreciatively. She was likewise appreciative as his hands moved up her back and down again, melting completely beneath his touch. She was cursed, her treacherous body overriding all sense – just like the first time. Oh how she hated him, but when she felt his lips against her lower back, she couldn't contain her moan of pleasure. Down he moved, lower this time, one palm squeezing as his teeth pressed into her skin with firm but gentle bites until his nose dragged down the crease of her ass. She wouldn't allow herself to think of how many lovers they had had, symbiote and host, or if this was some memory of hers that they'd retained. Wherever it came from, she couldn't pretend it didn't feel good.

 

Baal hummed in approval as her hips twitched upward, his tongue dragging wetly between the crease of her ass to tease at the edge of her pussy.

 

“Bastard,” Sam mumbled, hiding her face in the sheets as she flushed hotly with equal parts arousal and shame. She was damned, of that she was certain, writhing so wantonly as the face of her enemy pressed into her most intimate places. But she hadn't been able to stop thinking of it since then, and she couldn't help herself now. And when he spoke, it was barely comprehensible mutterings in Goa'uld, turning her onto her back once more before his mouth set to work between her thighs.

 

“Oh please, oh please,” she rambled incoherently, hating and loving each moment in equal measure.

 

Baal chuckled and she flushed with shame, throwing her arm over her eyes so she didn't have to witness his smug satisfaction at hearing her beg.

 

“Yes, my darling,” he rasped, equally breathless, pressing his hands against her thighs and humming in approval as she spread her legs wide. “Yes,” he repeated, stroking his fingers across the soft skin, down, and around and then inside. Sam's hips rose up off the bed, grinding against his hand and he chuckled deeply before letting his mouth join his fingers. Moaning, Sam squirmed against the sheets until it was simultaneously too much and not enough.

 

“Oh please,” she whimpered, her back arching off the bed towards his hand. “Please.” Down her hands slipped, nails raking through his short hair and her eyes peering down to where his head was pressed between her legs. Two dark eyes stared back at her and a hot wave of shame washed through her. “Oh god,” she cursed, turning her face away as her hands fisted into the bedsheets. “Oh shit.”

 

A moment later and the mattress dipped beneath her and when she opened her eyes once more, was greeted with the sight of Baal hovering over her. She let out a stuttering breath as she met his gaze, trapped in his arms as he leant down to kiss her again.

 

“Samantha,” he breathed, his dragging his lips across her cheek. “I would give the whole galaxy to hear you call me that.”

 

“Bastard,” Sam hissed, bringing up her hand to cuff him on the ear. Baal grunted and curled his fingers around her wrist, pinning her arms beside her head as she squirmed indignantly. He smiled then, the broad head of his cock gliding over the folds of her pussy to nudge at her clit until groaned with pleasure.

 

“Samantha,” he purred, leaning closer to kiss her once more and Sam moaned in spite of herself, spreading her legs wider as the head of his erection slipped between her thighs. His nose brushed hers and his eyes found hers, Baal's vague smug melting away to leave her transfixed by the intensity of his stare. It should be frightening, it _was_ frightening but to her shame, in that moment, more arousing than anything. A heartbeat passed and when he spoke it was in a low, wistful voice. “I would give you the galaxy if you asked me for it,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. Sam stared at him, letting his words sink in for a moment.

 

“I don't want it,” Sam told him in a voice barely more than a whisper. She shook her head. “Oh I don't want it.” Baal placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, his breath hot against her skin as he hummed.

 

“Of course not,” he said in a tone that she could not quite read.

 

“I hate you,” Sam reminded him as his lips found hers, sighing the words more than speaking as her arms coiled around his shoulders.

 

“I know you do,” he told her, the words melting away into a long groan of pleasure as the wide head of his cock slipped inside of her.

 

“Hmm,” Sam moaned again, kissing him deeply as his cock sank into her body. There were no words for a while, just the heavy rasp of breath and the wet smack of lips as they kissed. Sam's hand slipped across his back, feeling the strong flex of his muscles as he moved inside of her and creeping ever lower until her palm came to rest over the round swell of his ass. Squeezing the firm flesh, Baal groaned and his hips snapped harder than before, until the breathless sighs and moans gave way to something more obscene. When he pushed up, the shock of cool air against her breasts made her breath hitch and Sam felt momentarily bereft until his hands stroked down her thighs before coming to rest on her hip and the other on her shoulder. Opening her eyes, Sam watched as Baal's gaze roved her body hungrily, his eyes narrowed to slits and a sneer of pleasure twisting his features. She stared at the V of muscles where his sculpted stomach turned into strong thighs, stretching her hand to caress the defined lines of his chest that remained just out of reach. Catching her fingers on the round well of his bicep, Sam dug her nails in, pulling him closer. Baal's eyes glowed brightly and she flushed hotly, pleasure sweeping through her body at the sight of it. Everything inside of her felt coiled tighter and tighter, her pussy clenching hard until something inside of her felt like it suddenly broke.

 

“Oh god,” she mumbled, barely conscious of the words she babbled as the heel of her hand reached between her legs, her hips moving of their own accord as she sloppily ground her palm against her clit to drag the pleasure out even longer. “Oh, god,” she moaned again, melting into the bed as Baal towered over her.

 

“Beautiful Samantha,” he growled at her, her mind vaguely registering the guttural sounds of Goa'uld as he spoke. “Beau...ti...fu......”

 

His lips fastened onto her collarbone, hands squeezing tight enough to pinch as his words melted into incoherence. Sam dazedly wrapped her arms around him, stroking his shoulders and nuzzling her cheek against his as he came.

 

They fell into silence, heavy breaths slowing into whispering sighs until the heat and weight of him become stifling. Pouting, Sam squirmed beneath him until he rolled to one side, trapping her beneath his arm and leg. Sam felt the cool shock of air against the dampness between her legs, too dazed in that moment to register the warm slide of what he'd left inside of her.

 

Some time passed, and Sam drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the warm hush of his breath on the back of her neck and the dance of blue lights on the wall. Slowly, gradually, reality began to seep in, the flickering of the lights suddenly making her eyes hurt and the air in the room too cool against her skin. Sam took a deep breath and cautiously took hold of Baal's arm, sliding out from beside him towards the edge of the bed.

 

Her feet touched the floor and she glanced around in search of the robe, moving to stand only to find herself restrained by a strong hand wrapped around her wrist.

 

“Where are you going?” Baal growled, his voice cracked and low. Sam swallowed hard.

 

“I'm thirsty,” she squeaked, dropping her gaze. Baal observed her face intently for a moment. Letting out a slow sigh, her shoulders sagged and when she spoke is was more to his chest than his eyes. “You can't keep me here forever,” she told him quietly, firmly. “You have to let me go,” she said again, raising her eyes at last to meet his stare. Baal was quiet for a moment, releasing his grip on her wrist to stroke her hair. His fingers trailed slowly across her jaw, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

 

“I know,” he said eventually. Sam sat silently, the strength of his stare doing strange things to her insides. “And I will,” he added after a long pause. “But for now,” he continued, his lip twitching and his eyes glittering in the half light. “You are my prisoner,” he finished, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer. Sam didn't resist, just let him wrap his arms around her and kiss her once more.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. So I watched a couple of eps of SG1 and become immediately re-obsessed with Sam/Baal. Be still my dark, degenerate heart! The only way I could get this to work was to give them some history. I might write some short snippets of that story one day. Maybe. I've always struggled to write a Sam/Baal fic that I'm happy with. They're an impossible pairing, but I love them anyway. Hope you enjoyed this bit of nonsense, I confess by the end I got a bit sick of writing it so I just went blah blah blah on the keyboard to make it end. I'm sorry there was no fellatio. I suppose I could always write chapter 2 with some of that and something less conservative than missionary position. Anyway, Shal Kek Nem Ron. PQ


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